Like a soft breeze that, barely there, sifts the papers on my table. br A window, open, and the curtains move gently. br A memory, that should not have been there. br An emotion that barely acknowledged should have known better. br br Some serious men dissected my emotions. br An existence that, in existing, forgot to be. br br A faraway pain, like a bird, alights on my hand, br Some ice on distant mountains settles in my heart. br All my experiences could not help me to understand br Why pain has be analysed, why the soul in crisis br Has to dissect, react and realise. br br Pain is more than a commodity br More than a substance that can be caged br Artists and poets have used it in its intensity br And often, often sunk under the weight of its density. br br I am one with this emotion. br It has become a part of this whole. br Remove it now and then I fear br That it will leave a painful, abyssmal hole.